I suffocate in my reality of living
I'd rather much be anywhere but here
If this is hell then I must agree it's a beautiful mess oppose to the heavens that others speak of that I've yet seen.
My thoughts are like sparrows within the winds of this hell and a tale to be told and not heard
I'd rather much be dying of nothing oppose to dying with complications of analysing life by it's consistent source of energy and what comes in every package
I'm a empty glass of water and a struggle for myself to drink from and yet I'd rather be the dirt that grows weeds to be pulled from
My insight is valued as nothing more than a sight that's obvious... Life is a nightmare to sleep on when everyday ends the same with the same thoughts.
To tell many of you the truth that reads this I truly rather be trapped within my sleep other than be here with any of you.
Living deprives you of your last even when you gain more